


Salutem

by markwatnae (bertie)



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Medical Procedures, Spark Sexual Interfacing, Transformer Sparklings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-27 12:11:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18194429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bertie/pseuds/markwatnae
Summary: Ratchet makes a snap decision that changes his and Optimus's life together, but it turns into the best choice he's ever made.





	Salutem

**Author's Note:**

> salutem (latin) - safety
> 
> this is my first TF fic in uhhhhh 11 years

The mech arrives at the medical center already critical and crashing with no next of kin listed in any of his identification information. His sparkling is at risk of following him if they don't make a decision soon, but no bots are available or willing to undergo a transfer. Ratchet knows his decision is rash, blatantly emotional reaction, but he took an oath and he isn't about to go back on it.

The spark is still very new, barely big enough to detect on scans, but something deep in his coding makes Ratchet volunteer.

His team isn't able to save the mech, but the sparkling is easily retrieved and transferred. Ratchet's coding updates quickly, accepting the new spark without problem, and he's given the rest of the day off. The end of his shift was near anyway, but Ratchet uses the extra time to finish paperwork and triple check if the sparkling has any extended family that might want to take custody. He finds nothing else and is once again saddened that this mech died with no family.

At the very least, his sparkling will have a chance at a happy and carefree life.

Optimus is already home when Ratchet arrives, standing in their den with his back to the door. He's looking down at something in his hands, completely oblivious as usual when faced with something interesting. Ratchet takes a moment to collect himself and admire his mate. Optimus was handsome back when he was just Orion Pax, an archivist, but Ratchet would be hard-pressed to say he's not more handsome now. The Matrix may have caused problems in their lives, but Ratchet is grateful for its existence.

Ratchet doesn't sneak up on him, but Optimus still jumps when his hand slides up his backstrut.

Faced with Optimus's brilliant smile, Ratchet forgets all about his important news for a moment.

"What's got your attention?" He teases.

In the past, Orion wouldn't hesitate to ramble on about his findings, the simple act of absorbing more knowledge a thrill to him, and Ratchet never stymied that passion. Over time, Optimus has simply decided that Ratchet is more important, especially when he's just gotten home from work.

"Nothing of import," he says, laying the datapad down on the table. "I'm glad you're home."

As always, Optimus's hands come up to capture Ratchet's jaw and tilt his face up for a firm kiss. Simply being so near to his mate, smelling, tasting, feeling him, is almost enough to completely wipe Ratchet's evening plans clean. Optimus moves from his mouth to his neck, glossa laving over a particularly sensitive cable, and Ratchet gasps, grasping onto his mate's broad shoulders. A heavy hand sweeps over his chestplates and Ratchet is pulled out of his very pleasurable reverie quite suddenly.

"Optimus," Ratchet breathes. "Wait, wait."

He retreats immediately, always heeding Ratchet's command, and he even looks a bit guilty.

"I apologize. I was more eager for you to arrive home than I anticipated."

Ratchet can't contain his smile. His mate has never lost his desire for him after all these years and it never ceases to amaze him.

"How was your day?" Optimus asks, hands resting politely on Ratchet's waist.

He exhales heavily before he can catch himself and Optimus's smile falls.

"What happened?" His tone is gentler, assuming the worst.

"A mech was brought in. They found him collapsed outside the center. His spark was failing and there was nothing we could do for him."

Optimus's fingers tighten slightly on his plating.

"He was carrying," Ratchet says. "The spark was healthy and viable, but no one could take it."

He's grateful Optimus no longer moves to immediately soothe him. After difficult cases, Ratchet needs to decompress and make sense of it before he can welcome the comfort of his mate.

He looks Optimus in the optic, ready for any reaction.

"I took it."

Optimus blinks down at him, and Ratchet breathes deeply.

"I took the sparkling. I had them transfer it to me."

Of all the reactions Ratchet had thought Optimus might have to this news on his drive home, a deep, probing kiss was not even in the realm of possibilities. Optimus's hands cup his face once more, tilting it back for more direct access to his mouth, and Ratchet's fingers scrabble at the plating on Optimus's arms.

He is released momentarily for Optimus to continue his assault by brushing over his audios and down to his neck again. Ratchet shivers in his mate's arms.

"Optimus, talk to me."

He is kissed soundly once again, fingers stroking across his cheeks. He hopes this means Optimus is happy.

Optimus presses a last, lingering kiss to his lips before meeting his eyes intently.

"I've wanted to have a family with you for a long time, but with our jobs and the political climate I wasn't sure it was the right time. Against all odds, I get my wish, and I can't imagine sharing this with anyone else."

"You don't mind that it's not ours?" Ratchet asks.

He knows the answer, but he needs to hear Optimus say it.

"Did you file the paperwork?"

"Yes, of course I did."

"Was there any family willing to take the sparkling?"

"We searched for as long as we could, but he had no next of kin listed and not even the database offered anything."

Optimus smiles, tilting Ratchet's face up gently. "Then this sparkling is ours, and we will love it as if we had forged it ourselves."

Ratchet buries his face in Optimus's chestplates to hide his tears. A gentle hand comes up to cradle the back of his helm and another strokes his back.

"This may not be how we originally planned our life together, but we have more than enough to provide for this sparkling and we have more than enough love to offer it. This sparkling will never know grief or pain or loneliness. We will care for this sparkling no matter their genetic makeup."

Optimus guides him to their sofa, pulling him down to lean against his bigger body.

"You're going to be a great parent, Ratchet. I know our sparkling is going to adore you," Optimus says.

Ratchet laughs humorlessly. "You sound so certain. Most mechs can't stand me."

"But I know you won't hide yourself from our child. They'll know how you truly are and they'll know how much you love them."

Ratchet says nothing and leans back against his mate. Optimus welcomes him, sliding his arms around him securely and nestling their helms together. One of his broad hands comes up to stroke across Ratchet's chestplates, fingertips tracing along the seams that allow his spark chamber to open. Ratchet's throat tightens and he tucks his face against Optimus's neck. They say nothing for a long time, simply enjoying their first time relaxing together as a family.

* * *

Seeing Optimus's spark, altered by the Matrix, is a privilege Ratchet will never take for granted.

His chestplates part easily, sliding out of the way to reveal his spark, the very core of his being, and it bathes them both in white light.

"May I?" Ratchet asks.

"Of course," comes Optimus's customary reply.

He will never grow tired of hearing Optimus's low, rumbling groan of pleasure when he touches his spark chamber. The Prime hangs his head, shoulders trembling, as Ratchet palms his spark tenderly.

"It's beautiful," Ratchet murmurs. "As always."

Optimus smiles at him, leaning down to capture his lips in a kiss. He licks into his mouth and Ratchet shivers. He moves away after a long moment mapping every inch of Ratchet's mouth, his own slick with shared oral lubricant. That sight alone is almost enough to have Ratchet change his mind about not wanting to go further tonight.

A gentle hand smoothes across his chestplates and Ratchet allows them to part for that touch. Ratchet's spark glows bluer than Optimus's since his was not touched by the Matrix, but Optimus has always raved about his spark's light much to Ratchet's chagrin.

There on the anterior side of Ratchet's spark a slightly darker spot of light stands out amongst the light and Optimus grins. Ratchet had seen it on the scans when he first took the spark but witnessing his partner see it for the first time is special.

He strokes a hand along Ratchet's waist, pride swirling in his field and their bond. Pride for a sparkling that's not even biologically his. Ratchet will never understand how he managed to find such a noble, remarkable, compassionate mech that eagerly took him as his mate.

"I can't wait to meet them," Optimus says softly, looking up from Ratchet's spark. "I can't wait to be a parent with you."

Ratchet hadn't expected something so sweet and benign to affect him so deeply. He pulls Optimus into a kiss and moans into his mouth when he settles their chests together. Spark merges are beneficial to a developing spark no matter their origin and new creators are encouraged to merge often. It doesn't hurt that merging is sometimes more pleasurable than physical interfacing.

Optimus is always handsy during a merge, touching Ratchet everywhere he can reach, and it only serves to push his pleasure higher. Soon he is panting through his mouth, secondary intakes working hard, and Optimus is sucking on his neck, one hand teasing the sensitive inside of his thigh. Ratchet buries his fingers in larger plating gaps, reaching for tender cables he knows drive Optimus wild.

He knows he's successful when Optimus bites down on his shoulder, groaning loudly.

"Let me hear you," Ratchet murmurs, kissing the side of his helm.

He tweaks another cable and Optimus's growling moan fills his audio sensors. His mate is breathing heavily, soft grunts and gasps punctuating the sound of his fans kicking into a higher gear.

The next few moments are nearly silent save for their messy kissing and gasps as their pleasure climbs. Optimus shifts his weight, finding a more comfortable position, and rocks gently into the merge. Ratchet cries out, grabbing at armor to keep himself from arching and disconnecting them. The armor under his fingers flares out, fans expelling heat as his vents open fully. Ratchet guides him back for another kiss, desperate to have his mate as close as possible.

His spark feels tight and ready to burst, aching to do something with the charge building between them.

"Please," he gasps against Optimus's mouth.

Optimus smiles against his lips and moves to kiss his jaw. "Whenever you're ready, my love."

Falling over the edge with Optimus is something Ratchet never expected to love so dearly. Having that peaceful presence in his mind as he reaches the peak of his pleasure before tumbling into the trembling aftershocks of a satisfying merge is irreplaceable. Optimus kisses him softly, making quiet, contented noises into his mouth, and his engine is purring just below them. Their sparks pulse hard when they finally move, loathe to be separated.

Optimus leans back after another long kiss to gaze at Ratchet's spark. The joy and adoration in his optics makes Ratchet ache.

Before Ratchet can anticipate his move, Optimus ducks his helm to press his lips to Ratchet’s bared spark chamber. The sensation pushes ripples of aftershocks through Rachet’s system and he arches into the touch with a weak moan. A broad hand slips under the small of his back, holding him there, and Optimus continues leaving soft kisses. Ratchet shivers in his arms, relishing the feedback his mate’s touch is creating.

Another smaller, gentler overload floods through his frame and Optimus makes an appreciative noise before finally releasing him. He slides up to catch Ratchet’s lips in a kiss and makes an appreciative noise into his mouth. Optimus derives pleasure from simply touching him and that is something that blows Ratchet’s processor. His bonded mate loves him so much he can be happy without any reciprocated pleasure.

Optimus pulls away from the kiss to nuzzle against his cheek and Ratchet opens sleepy optics to gaze up at him. He sighs when Optimus presses kisses across his face.

“Thank you for giving this to me,” Optimus says, voice low and dripping with emotion. “I can never express to you my full gratitude. I’m blessed to be able to be a creator with you.”

Warmth spreads through Ratchet’s chest and makes his spark pulse hard. He guides Optimus back for another kiss, letting his lips part for that seeking glossa. Optimus’s frame is hot and heavy above him, pressing down just enough to remind Ratchet of the power he holds, and Ratchet whines into their kiss.

* * *

Carrying bots don’t usually exhibit symptoms caused by the additional spark energy necessary to support a sparkling, but it isn’t uncommon. Every bot reacts differently to the situation and Ratchet has treated just about every single one of them. He winced in sympathy as a bot struggled to keep any amount of energon in their tank, constantly purging whatever they ate. He made suggestions to combat insomnia. He prescribed pain dampeners for insistent and overwhelming aching pain in the spark chamber. He encouraged spark merges and physical contact to soothe the desperate need for affection. He even attempted emergency separations when a bot’s spark failed with mixed results.

First Aid had given him the short version of what to look out for after Ratchet reminded him he’d been caring for carriers longer than he’d been online. He doesn’t actively try to make First Aid’s job harder, the mech is a great doctor and could take over for Ratchet when he retires, but he chafes when others try to explain to him what he already knows.

Nearing the end of the carrying cycle, some bots begin their parental leave as the last weeks can be the hardest on a bot’s frame. Ratchet waits until the discomfort of a larger spark drawing energy from his own is finally too much to handle during a twelve hour shift before submitting for his leave. His friends and co-workers send him off with well-wishes and demands to see the sparkling as soon as possible. Optimus’s position doesn’t allow him to take leave, but it affords him flexibility in some of his schedule and he works from home as often as possible.

“Your spark is too strong; you’ve given them too much energy,” Ratchet complains one evening.

While being carried, the sparkling’s spark can jolt and shift as it grows stronger and that translates into obvious discomfort for the carrier. Ratchet blames Optimus for their sparkling’s moveable nature.

Optimus laughs, bending down to kiss him. “Sure. How are you feeling otherwise?”

“Tired,” he answers. “I feel like I drove two thousand miles at full speed without stopping.”

Optimus makes a sympathetic noise and kisses him again. “What can I do?”

Ratchet asks for an evening in their berth, relaxing and dozing and maybe something a little more spark-pounding if he’s feeling well enough. Optimus leaps at the opportunity to be close to Ratchet without his usual grumbling at the idea of _cuddling_. They take energon cubes with them to their room and settle in to talk, watch a holofilm, and enjoy each other’s company.

Optimus has been delighted by Ratchet’s sudden change in opinion on intimacy and snuggling. His carrier protocols demand contact with his sparkling’s sire almost constantly and Optimus has never once complained. For such a regal, powerful mech, Optimus is one of the most tactile and touch-motivated mechs Ratchet has ever met. All of Optimus’s affection comes out in his touch; he expresses himself best with his body. Ratchet has never disliked his partner’s love language, but he’s always been slightly more aloof. Optimus has taken this in stride their entire relationship and they found a comfortable compromise both were content with.

Carrying has made Ratchet ten times more demonstrative and each press of Optimus’s hands lights his sensors up like wildfire. He craves his mate’s touch all day and can hardly be sated once they’re home. His desire for physical contact doesn’t always translate into interfacing, but neither of them would deign to say carrying made interfacing less enjoyable.

He presses into Optimus’s arms after, resting their forehelms together, and listens to his lover’s engine slowly gear down. Optimus is still panting through his mouth with vents spilling hot air as fast as they can. Ratchet kisses him on the nasal ridge and shivers from the residual charge in his system.

“I didn’t do my job well enough,” Optimus purrs, leaning in to nip at Ratchet’s lips.

“You did fine,” Ratchet murmurs, stroking his hand down Optimus’s helm. “The sparkling is just greedy.”

Optimus laughs into their kiss, dragging his hand over Ratchet’s hip.

“I love you,” he says fiercely. “I feel like my spark will burst if I don’t tell you enough.”

Warmth slides through his lines at Optimus’s bright gaze and firm declaration.

“I love you too,” Ratchet replies, voice soft with emotion. “More than words can describe.”

* * *

The separation of the sparkling's spark from his own is more painful than Ratchet anticipated. He knew it caused some carriers discomfort, but he hadn't expected this level of pressure. Obviously having medical instruments inside your spark chamber while completely lucid wasn't exactly going to be pleasant, but now he has a greater appreciation for all the carriers he performed separations on in the past.

Optimus stands at his shoulder, hands tucked behind his back after being forbidden to touch him by Ratchet himself. He couldn't handle the extra stimulation on his arm with First Aid's hands in his spark chamber. Optimus had only been doing his best to soothe him, but it only overwhelmed him, and he hadn’t taken offense to the request to step back.

Ratchet looks up at his mate and Optimus smiles, leaning down to kiss his forehelm.

“I love you,” Optimus whispers.

First Aid tells him to keep breathing normally and gentles his touch as he makes another careful incision to coax the spark into separating.

After a particularly sharp pain, Ratchet reaches out for his partner. Optimus takes his hand, holding it firmly but not squeezing. His field spreads out to press against Ratchet’s, offering support and love and peace. Once again, Ratchet struggles to believe he is lucky enough to have this spectacular mech as his bonded.

"Almost there," First Aid says, soft among the steady chirping of the spark monitor.

Ratchet knows the final separation is the most painful. He's had carriers and sires alike lose consciousness and he hopes he won't be able to add himself to that list.

"Last one."

He can't stop the whimper from escaping, but First Aid would never say a word of his time caring for the Chief Medical Officer. That's why Ratchet chose him in the first place. The mech is incredibly professional and respectful. He gasps through the pain, feeling tears of lubricant slip from his optics, and Optimus keeps a gentle hold on his hand.

Ratchet groans at the sudden lancing pain before it fades away into an uncomfortable ache.

"Done. Perfect separation."

He turns his helm toward his mate and Optimus leans down to kiss him softly.

"It's beautiful," he murmurs.

First Aid had reluctantly agreed to finish the spark integration where Ratchet could see and they watch as he carefully places the tiny spark in the waiting protoform. Visual assessment of a spark can be hit or miss, but Ratchet knows his sparkling has an incredibly bright and powerful spark. Several moments pass and they feel like the longest moments of Ratchet's entire existence.

The silence, marred only by the spark monitor, is broken once more by the pitiful cry of a sparkling coming online for the first time. Ratchet feels more tears fall down his faceplates as he watches his sparkling wriggle under First Aid's diligent hands. The grey sparkling kicks and arches in their thwarted attempts to escape. Finally, First Aid scoops the sparkling up in a blanket and brings them over to Optimus. Ratchet has seen love in his partner’s optics before, but this is adoration of the greatest kind. Optimus carefully takes the sparkling in his arms, cradling them close to his chassis.

"Hello, my little one," he says, low and rumbling, and the sparkling turns bright blue optics on him.

First Aid returns to Ratchet's side to finish cleaning and closing his spark chamber. As he works, Ratchet watches Optimus and his sparkling. The sparkling had calmed when they found themselves closer to their creators, but they still whimper and shift as if not quite happy with their situation. Their tiny, barely perceptible field whips out, searching.

"Shh, shh, here's who you're looking for," Optimus says sweetly, bending to allow the sparkling to see Ratchet. "He's right here."

Optimus moves closer so the sparkling can feel the field and presence of their carrier more easily and they calm, chirring softly and blinking sleepy optics at Ratchet.

"Hello," Ratchet says, vocalizer staticky with emotion and exhaustion.

Their sparkling purrs at him and Ratchet smiles.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, and Optimus leans in to kiss him on the forehelm again.

"They're absolutely perfect," he agrees.

First Aid closes Ratchet's chestplates gently and he appreciates the careful touch. He will be sore for several days, but that won't stop him from holding his sparkling.

"Come here, sweet one," he says.

Optimus lays the sparkling in his arms against his chest and the warm weight soothes him. The sparkling nuzzles in close, purring contentedly, and gives a huge yawn. They laugh at the terribly cute scrunched up face and Ratchet can't remember ever being so happy.

"From a few preliminnary tests, the spark ranks in the highest percentile and it integrated perfectly into the frame. We'll know more once it has settled, but so far there's nothing to worry about," First Aid tells them. "I'll come back in a few hours to check on you."

Optimus pulls a chair up to the side of the berth and Ratchet turns the sparkling to face him. This disturbs them only for a moment and they give a testy chirp before settling back down against Ratchet's chassis. Their little cheek presses against his plating as if yearning to return to the warmth of his spark chamber.

They spend long minutes simply gazing at their new creation, watching the rise and fall of their chest as they breathe, the movements of their little mouth as they dream, and the clenching of their fists against Ratchet’s chest. Optimus wipes tears from Ratchet’s face, leaning in to kiss the side of his helm.

"Rest if you need," Optimus says, reaching out to lower the lights of their room. "You deserve it."

They share a soft kiss before Ratchet can no longer fight recharge with their sparkling already dozing on his chest.

He wakes unexpectedly during the night cycle to realize his chest is devoid of any weight. He panics for only a moment before his searching field finds the ones he is looking for. The sight that greets him when he turns his helm stirs something ancient deep in his spark.

Optimus has their sparkling cradled in his hands near his face, nuzzling their tiny chest that houses their perfect spark as it rises and falls. He pulls back to stare at the sparkling, optics dim and hazy with pleasure and exhaustion. The sparkling reaches out to touch his face, peeping at their sire. Optimus dips his helm, nudging his nasal ridge against the sparkling’s cheek before laving his glossa along the side of their helm. The sparkling purrs contentedly, pushing into their sire’s touch.

Ratchet has been privy to many miracles and spark-wrenching sights in his time as a medic, but nothing is more precious to him than seeing his partner bond with their sparkling. Despite the circumstances of this sparkling’s creation, their birth had successfully triggered Optimus’s sire coding and he is treating them as if he had been the one to spark Ratchet himself.

The sparkling is so tiny they fit easily in both of Optimus’s palms with room to spare. When he brings them close to his face once again, the sparkling pushes their face against his, tiny glossa peeking out to taste their sire’s plating. Optimus’s engine rumbles, a soothing sound that lulls Ratchet back into recharge.

+

The pinprick from a needle is enough to send the sparkling into hysterics, but Ratchet's voice and gentle fingers rubbing against their wrist quickly soothe them. They give tiny hiccups, attempting to burrow as close to his chestplates as possible, and Ratchet cradles them there while stroking their quivering backstrut.

First Aid stands at a console, testing the energon sample, and his visor flashes with joy when he looks over at Ratchet.

"The CNA is indicating you have a mech," he says, and Ratchet beams down at the tiny face peering up at him.

They are a genderless race, but knowing one's biological makeup is necessary for accurate healthcare. If their sparkling decides later he prefers to present as a femme, then Ratchet and Optimus will support and continue loving them as they do now.

Optimus runs his fingers over their sparkling's helm and a quiet buzzing comes from him in response, enjoying his father's touch.

While Optimus is not the original sire, he provided nearly all of the merge energy that allowed the spark to grow and he is considered a sire both in the medical literature and socially and Ratchet never lets him forget it. Their sparkling has also wholeheartedly acknowledged Optimus as his sire, purring when he is the one to hold him and stretching out his field to him when they are separated.

"How are you feeling?" First Aid asks.

"Sore, but not unbearably," Ratchet answers.

"Good. You know what to do to manage the pain and to call or come back if it persists or gets worse."

"Yes, I've given that speech many times," he says.

"I'll spare you the rest of it," First Aid says with a smile. "You're free to go whenever you feel up to it."

A one night stay at a hospital is regular practice for normal carries, longer for any complications, but Ratchet's spark chamber had no damage and both he and the sparkling are doing well. The soreness from the separation can be handled with pain dampeners at home.

Despite being a medic and practically living in this hospital everyday, Ratchet is eager to leave, get home with his sparkling, and be able to fully relax. He hands the sparkling over to Optimus, who coos at him and blows cool air over him as he squeals.

Just the short trip to their home leaves Ratchet exhausted, but Optimus is attentive and gets him into their berth without incident. Settled comfortably in their plush coverings, Ratchet eagerly accepts their sparkling who leans up to nuzzle against Ratchet's faceplates. He presses a little too firmly on Ratchet's chest with a tiny hand but a quick shift has the sparkling in a better position and both of them are more comfortable.

As the sparkling dozes, he chirps and buzzes quietly, cheek squished against Ratchet’s plating. Ratchet strokes his back, feeling the ridges of his backstrut, and marveling at finally having his sparkling in his arms.

Optimus returns with energon for both of them and pain dampeners for Ratchet. Once they've both emptied their cubes and the dampeners are starting to work, they settle down in the darkened room to recharge. Their sparkling remains asleep, tiny head nestled against Ratchet's throat.

* * *

Ratchet sits on the edge of his and Optimus’s berth, staring at the pattern of their floor with unseeing optics. His processor is light years away, turning over one simple question endlessly. The gentle slide of a hand along his back makes him jolt and he looks up to find Optimus pressed close.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks softly, running his hand down his backstrut.

Being friends with and loving Optimus for so long has allowed Ratchet to feel comfortable broaching any subject, but even this gives him pause. Optimus must sense his hesitation because he leans in to press a kiss to Ratchet’s forehelm. Ratchet can’t help but let his head fall again and he returns to studying the floor at Optimus’s feet.

“Did I make the right decision?” Ratchet asks, voice barely a whisper.

Optimus has always been incredibly intelligent and he needs no elaboration; Ratchet appreciates that.

“Yes, I think you made the right decision. Our lives will be changed forever now, but I’m very happy with the change. I wouldn’t go back and encourage you to decline the transfer. Worrying over your choice is normal; First Aid warned us about that. I will give you all the reassurance you need.”

“I feel like a terrible carrier for even thinking it,” he says.

Another kiss is left on his helm and Optimus’s hand strokes his back.

“You’re not a terrible carrier,” he soothes. “You’re stressed, and it’s understandable. Our lives have changed dramatically and it’s hard to adapt to even the best situations.”

“We had a year to prepare.”

“It doesn’t matter if we’d had ten years to prepare. The change itself is still an upheaval no matter how welcome. We suddenly have another life to protect and consider and that’s a drastic change from our previous responsibilities. We love him more than anything, but he’s still altered our status quo.”

Optimus pushes his way between Ratchet’s legs and wraps his arms around his waist, forcing his helm up so Ratchet has to choose between staring at Optimus’s chest or his face. Ratchet rests his forehelm on his bonded’s chestplates.

He knows the reply he will receive before he even speaks, but hearing it might calm some of his nerves.

“You probably hate me for saying it.”

“Of course not,” Optimus chides, leaving more kisses on any plating he can reach. “It upsets me to see you hurting and not being able to fix it, but I do not hate you for worrying about this.”

The intercom Wheeljack was kind enough to install for them emits a curious chirp and Ratchet’s spark pulses.

“Stay here,” Optimus says, tilting Ratchet’s face up for a quick kiss.

His tank clenches with anxiety when he hears Optimus’s footsteps near their room again. He hates himself for thinking their sparkling was a mistake and he fears seeing him will only make it worse.

When Optimus’s broad frame appears in the doorway, Ratchet’s vents catch. Their sparkling is settled high in his arms, close to his face, and tiny hands rest on his faceplates near his mouth. Optimus is smiling and talking to him, blowing air on his face and making him giggle. The sparkling pushes up to nuzzle against Optimus’s chin and the sire ducks his head to kiss him on the helm. The sparkling purrs loud enough to be heard across the room. Optimus catches one of his hands in his mouth, nibbling gently, and the sparkling shrieks with delight.

Drawing near their berth, Optimus smiles sweetly at Ratchet. He sucks in a quick breath at the emotion that smile causes to flare in his belly.

“Sit back,” Optimus says with a nod of his helm, and Ratchet obliges.

Ratchet automatically reaches for their sparkling when Optimus shifts to hand him over and the smile he receives from the little mech brings tears to his optics. His field had stretched out the moment Optimus brought him in the room, searching for his carrier, and now their fields mesh together, twining perfectly as they had while the sparkling was still being carried. Ratchet gasps for breath, feeling the absolute adoration that colors the tiny field as he cradles him in his arms. The sparkling buzzes and chirps at him as he snuggles close to Ratchet’s chestplates, pressing his cheek firmly against them. He stares up at his carrier with wide, earnest optics and Ratchet is unable to control the emotions being forced to the surface.

He trembles with the force of his sobs, vision blurred with tears, but his sparkling’s sweet face is vivid in his mind. Strong arms settle around him and Optimus, now sitting at his side on the berth, leans his forehelm against his temple, offering his support and comfort. Soft chirrs of concern emanate from his arms and Ratchet feels guilty.

“You don’t have to be perfect to be what he needs,” Optimus whispers, kissing his shoulder. “He loves you unconditionally. You’re the most important person in his life and he loves you more than anything no matter what happens.”

The warmth of his sparkling’s frame against his chest soothes some of the pain in his spark. The vibrations of his insistent purring makes Ratchet finally smile. Optimus is running his fingertips along his backstrut, nuzzling against his cheek, and his engine purrs in sync with their son’s.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice staticky, and Optimus kisses him firmly.

“Don’t apologize,” he murmurs. “You’re allowed to feel overwhelmed.”

They breathe for several moments, simply enjoying the closeness and warmth of their frames.

Ratchet looks down at their sparkling and smiles again. “How are you sleepy? You just woke up.”

He blinks slowly, little twitters coming from his vocalizer.

“I think he has the right idea,” Optimus says, reaching for the light panel. “Come here.”

Their berth is more than large enough to accommodate all three of them comfortably, but the sparkling insists on remaining as close to Ratchet’s spark as possible. He yawns and Ratchet’s chest fills with warmth at the sight. Optimus wraps one arm around Ratchet’s waist, pulling him closer, and nuzzles in for a kiss. Finally, the grip of grief and unease releases his spark and he can breathe deeply as his bonded makes his love known through simple affection. Their sparkling’s helm bumps against their chins as he shifts to bury his face in Ratchet’s chestplates.

* * *

As the weeks pass, the sparkling grows steadily and he remains healthy. He has a personality that makes him the center of attention wherever he goes and his creators’ friends are smitten with him. He recharges regularly and rarely cries, a simple pleasure that allows his creators to maintain a decent amount of recharge themselves. His presence has only enhanced Optimus and Ratchet's life.

When his proto-armor begins to grow its color, the sight is a welcome and delightful surprise.

"Look," Optimus says, reaching out to touch the sparkling's forearm.

Flecks of yellow are appearing in splotches, adding a dose of color to their sparkling’s usual grey color. They knew the sparkling wouldn’t show any traits of theirs, but this is the perfect development.

"A fitting color," Ratchet says with a smile.

This sparkling has already brought such joy to their life and they expect for that to be multiplied upon in the coming years. A bright and sunny shade only accentuates this sparkling's ability to bring comfort to a few weary mechs.

The sparkling lies in Ratchet’s arms one quiet afternoon, tiny hands clinging to his plating, and fights his mid-day recharge. Ratchet strokes his little face with gentle fingers, attempting to lull him to sleep, but dim blue optics blink rapidly up at him. He bends to kiss the sparkling on the forehelm, raising his core temperature a few degrees so the warmth might soothe him.

Optimus sits beside him on the sofa, kissing the sparkling's helm softly.

“You need to sleep, little one,” he rumbles, kissing the tiny audio sensors.

The sparkling peeps at him, a weak, sleepy sound.

"I've been thinking of names," Optimus says.

"Oh?" Ratchet asks. "What do you have in mind?"

“We could give him a designation until he is old enough to choose his own name,” Optimus suggests, but the hesitance in his voice betrays his opinion of that idea.

Ratchet shakes his helm. “Too impersonal. It’s just as easy to change a full name as it is to change a designation. Besides, he’s too boisterous and sweet to just have some letters and numbers as his name.”

Optimus smiles at him, and Ratchet scowls back. While carrying, Ratchet had swung wildly between worrying that the sparkling wouldn’t love him and worrying he wouldn’t love the sparkling when it was finally separated. After the separation, the usual regret and sadness pervaded Ratchet’s processor. Now, they are practically inseparable. Optimus doesn’t hold it over him too often; the sight of them sleeping or playing together is simply too precious to ruin.

"Bumblebee?" Optimus says.

Ratchet wracks his processor. "I've never heard that before."

He gets a grin that is so reminiscent of Orion his vents flare with a hard breath at the surprise.

"It's a creature on a planet called Earth. They're black and yellow and pollinate flora to encourage continued growth. They’re very cute, and make sounds reminiscent of his vocalizations," Optimus explains.

"Bumblebee," Ratchet says, trying the name in his mouth.

When Optimus suggests another name, Ratchet’s spark pulses hard in denial. He gazes down at his sparkling, dozing in his arms with his face pressed into his carrier’s plating. Something urges him back to the name of the Earth creature.

“I like Bumblebee,” he says.

He doesn’t mean for his voice to sound so tentative, but Optimus just smiles sweetly at him and leans into kiss him.

“I like it as well. I think it suits him perfectly,” he murmurs. “He isn’t projected to grow very tall, his armor is going to be yellow, and his personality is so joyful and carefree.”

Ratchet smiles at his mate. “Bumblebee.”

There's a bright, insistent squeak from his arms and their sparkling is awake, arching his back and kicking his little legs out. Ratchet helps him to sit up and big blue optics look up at him intently. He chirrs at his carrier curiously.

Optimus and Ratchet share a look.

"Bumblebee?" Optimus says, and the sparkling twists to gaze up at his sire.

Optimus grins and reaches out to stroke the sparkling under his chin. Blue optics close and a happy purr emanates from the tiny body.

"Is your name Bumblebee?" Optimus asks.

The sparkling whistles happily and his creators laugh.

"That settles that, then," Ratchet says.

Their sparklingーBumblebeeーclimbs up to Ratchet's face, nuzzling contentedly against his jaw, and Ratchet nuzzles back.

"Our little Bumblebee," he murmurs, and Bumblebee makes a sweet buzzing sound in the back of his vocalizer.

After trading kisses, Ratchet playfully wrestles Bumblebee down into his arms again and the sparkling squeals.

“Our little Bumblebee that needs to recharge,” he says, tweaking his nasal ridge gently.

Bumblebee takes a few gasping breaths before he releases a sneeze that shocks him into silence. Optimus laughs heartily, leaning back into the sofa.

Ratchet brings Bumblebee up to kiss him. His sparkling blinks sleepy optics at him and yawns, tiny face scrunched up, and Ratchet smiles.

Bumblebee wiggles until he can rest against Ratchet’s chestplates, pushing his cheek against the armor. He settles down almost immediately, purring contentedly.

“Oh, alright,” Ratchet says, the annoyance in his voice forced.

He leans back into the cushions behind him and Optimus cuddles closer.

“Now I have two of you!” Ratchet grouses, and Optimus gives a rumbling laugh.

“We’ll convert you eventually,” he teases, kissing Ratchet on the cheek.

Bumblebee trills at his creators as if agreeing with his sire.

“Traitor,” Ratchet grumbles, lacking any venom.

A charming little purr is his only response.

* * *

Bumblebee rarely makes messes, but when he does, they are spectacular.

He is covered in energon, having grabbed a full, opened cube and been unable to keep a hold on it. Ratchet watches miserably as it drips off him onto the floor. Bumblebee warbles at him, optics wide.

“It’s all right,” he says, stroking his son’s helmーthe only place not covered in energon. “We’ll clean it up.”

When energon is exposed to air, it can dry to a tacky finish fairly quickly. Ratchet knows he’ll have a hell of a time getting it off the chair, table, and floor if he allows it to dry, but he’d rather clean Bumblebee first and deal with the rest later.

Picking up the sparkling means getting energon on himself, but he’s had worse on his plating than simply food.

He takes Bumblebee to his and Optimus’s washracks; holding him in a shower will be easier and faster than running a whole bath. To reassure him that he isn’t mad about the spill, Ratchet licks energon off Bumblebee’s cheek, relishing in the sparkling’s squeal.

“Does that tickle?” He asks, and when Bumblebee continues to laugh, he does it again.

Bumblebee’s screams of delight echo off the walls of the washracks and not even the sound of the water drowns them out. Ratchet continues sucking sticky energon off Bumblebee’s plating until his sparkling is giggling and pushing weakly at his carrier’s faceplates. His secondary intake kicks in and he pulls in air through his mouth, tiny vents flaring open to release hot air. Ratchet kisses him softly to soothe him and he receives a quiet buzzing in reply. He’s forgiven for his torture.

Washing two of them with only one free hand proves slightly difficult, but Ratchet is in no hurry. Bumblebee is warm in his arms, snuggled up close to his neck and purring constantly. When all the traces of energon are gone, Ratchet shuts the shower off and walks slowly to their rack of towels. He wraps Bumblebee in one, hushing his annoyed peeps when he moves him, but then he settles back down quickly, little hands kneading at the cables in Ratchet’s neck. He dries himself just enough to ensure he’s not tracking water through the house before leaving with Bumblebee still bundled up.

Ratchet puts more swing into his steps as he walks the rooms of their home. He focuses on the sensation of Bumblebee in his arms, laying against his chest, and the soft breaths coming from his vents. He had always given the idea of sparklings a vague thought and figured he would know when to take that thought further into action. He likes caring for sparklings and younglings at the hospital, but he never easily imagined himself being a parent. Now, feeling Bumblebee’s engine rumbling against his chest and hearing his soft buzzing as he sleeps, he can’t imagine anything that would make him happier.

He stands in his and Optimus’s berthroom, looking out the window at the city, and continues to sway. His spark feels full, fit to burst, and he dips his helm to kiss the tiny shoulder below his chin. Bumblebee’s field ripples contentedly, meshing easily with Ratchet’s own, and he makes a quiet noise in his sleep.

A soft knock on the doorframe has him carefully turning to find Optimus watching them with a smile. Optimus comes to him, arms sliding around his hips, and Ratchet tilts his helm up to meet him for a kiss. Another kiss is pressed to Bumblebee’s temple and their sparkling’s field adjusts to welcome his sire’s as well.

Ratchet leaves a kiss on Bumblebee’s cheek before carefully transferring him to Optimus’s arms after prying his tiny fingers from the cables of his neck. Optimus cradles him against his chest, careful and tender, and soothes Bumblebee’s confused twittering. Upon recognizing his sire, Bumblebee simply buries his face in Optimus’s chestplates with a contented sigh.

* * *

Now more yellow than grey and getting steadier on his feet, Bumblebee is a force to be reckoned with. He’s not completely mobile, but he does his best. Optimus is his biggest supporter, always on the floor with him to encourage his steps and coax him further. Bumblebee adores his sire and is always eager to be near him so the reward is mostly Optimus himself instead of a toy or treat. He loves toddling between them, Ratchet on one side of and Optimus on the other. He buries his face in Ratchet’s chest, still carrying their bond strong, and purrs until Ratchet purrs back. Optimus lifts him over his head while Bumblebee squeals and the sound is a beautiful addition to their usually quiet home.

Bumblebee is always babbling and trying to convey everything he thinks to his creators. Ratchet encourages it in his own way, but Optimus is markedly more enthusiastic. Both creators are uncertain when it comes to what Bumblebee should call them when he does finally learn to speak. _Sire_ and _Carrier_ are the more traditional titles given to creators, but Optimus remarks that they feel too sterile.

Ratchet overhears Optimus’s idea one morning when he is unaware Ratchet is even out of berth.

“What do you think you should call me, hm?” Optimus asks.

Ratchet peeks around the doorframe to see Optimus holding Bumblebee, rocking and bouncing him as he warms energon. Bumblebee gazes up at his sire with wide, adoring optics.

“I think something easy for now,” he says, making a face that makes Bumblebee giggle. “Oppy, maybe? Ratchet will never let me live it down. Jazz will hold it over me until the day I die. I like being known as your sire, but I don’t want you calling me that. We’re more than that, right? We’re closer than that.”

There’s a soft peep of what could be agreement from Bumblebee, and Optimus grins.

“I thought so.”

Ratchet doesn’t mention it, and frankly, he forgets about the spark-warming conversation until it comes to fruition one day.

Optimus is laid out on their berth with an aching helm and Bumblebee had done his very best to make it to their room’s door on his own before Ratchet finally realized he wanted to check on his sire. Cradled in his carrier’s arms, Bumblebee reaches out carefully to touch Optimus’s arm. Optimus smiles at him, stroking his tiny cheek.

“Thank you, little one,” he rumbles.

Bumblebee buzzes at him, worried.

“I’m all right, I promise.”

Bumblebee looks up at his carrier as if asking for a second opinion. Ratchet smiles and bends to kiss him softly.

“He’s okay, little one. I’ll make sure of it,” he says, and Bumblebee makes a sad sound.

“Oppy.”

Optimus’s optics blow wide and Ratchet is sure his look much the same. They stare at one another before turning to their sparkling who is still gazing at his sire with concern.

“What was that, Bee?” Optimus asks, coaxing.

Bumblebee reaches out again, whimpering, “Oppy.”

Aching helm forgotten, Optimus sits up and leans in to kiss their sparkling, cupping his face in his hands. The grin on his face makes Bumblebee perk up, reaching out to pat his cheek gently.

“I’m so proud of you, sweetspark,” Optimus croons, kissing Bumblebee again.

He looks up at Ratchet and Ratchet’s spark pulses at the delight in his optics. Bumblebee chirps, glancing between his creators. Ratchet kisses him again, nuzzling against his sparkling’s face. Bumblebee purrs loudly.

“Well done, my little Bee.”


End file.
